He didn’t have to come—Corbet or Sarah could have taken me—but he took control of the whole situation. Maybe I could cook for him one night? I could offer to do his homework for a week. Still, I felt nothing would be enough. I also doubted he would want me to do anything for him in return for taking care of me when I needed it. “Alexandra?” Tristan said. “Hmm?” He chuckled. “We’re here.” He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car. Before he had a chance to come around my side, I quickly got out. I walked up to the front door, unlocked it, and then turned on the lounge light. Without stopping, I made my way into the kitchen. To do what, I wasn’t sure. I stopped at the kitchen bench and gripped it. My dad was going to be okay. That was good. No, that was more than good. I felt that I should have been crying, but I’d done enough on the way to the hospital, and now the relief of knowing that he was going to be fine overrode anything. I felt happy. Exhausted, but content. “Alexandra?” “Hmm?” This felt familiar. Another chuckle.
